The Creature with Three Faces
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: AU. Methos is often credited as being a grand manipulator; but even he is powerless in the clutches of an Immortal with higher authority. No OC's.
1. Chapter 1

The Creature with Three Faces

1982

The weather that day was gray, cold and dreary. The sky was full of clouds that threatened to open up and pour down rain at any moment. The weather didn't matter to Methos; this was one of those days when nothing could matter to him. He felt like a sheet of wallpaper; blending into the background, blending out of reality, out of individuality. He walked the endless streets of the city, blending in with hundreds of other people coming this way and that, heading here and there. He didn't know any of them, he didn't know anything about any of them, and he didn't care to either, they didn't matter to him.

His life was in a rut. It was nothing new, it came up once every 500 years or so. He'd spend a few weeks feeling like hell, the feeling would eventually pass, and he'd feel like a member of the living again. It wasn't just an emotional thing though; his whole life seemed to be at a standstill. He was debating on what his next identity should be, where he should apply for his next job, and then there was the whole mess about the Watchers. He'd been debating with himself for a couple years about joining, and posing as a rookie who worked on the Methos archives…after all, he'd told himself a hundred times, what better way to hide? He'd be in charge of finding himself and he'd made sure it never happened. Still there were risks, there were always risks…but at the same time it just seemed his best place to hide.

The back of Methos' skull felt like it was ready to cave in. The alarms were going off inside of his head; there was another Immortal nearby. But who? Methos looked around at everybody he was passing, nobody noticed him, nobody paid him any mind, and several shoved right past him. He didn't stop but kept looking around, trying to see anybody who stood out, who had stopped to notice _him_. Nobody ahead of him, nobody to the left, and nobody to the right, he turned back around and he felt his heart stop.

He had to get away. He turned and started running, he knew he had been spotted; but if he could get away before the other Immortal caught up with him…he only hoped he could. He took many twists and turns through the city in his attempt to throw his pursuer off the trail; by the time he finally slowed down, the afternoon had turned into evening and it was darker out than before. Methos stopped when he was somewhere on the other side of town and he knew that he had lost the other Immortal a long ways back; he still couldn't think straight but his head was clear, clear of the noise, clear of the buzz, clear of everything it seemed.

His heart still pounded against his chest like a war drum. His breath came in short and heavy gasps and he could feel sweat running down his entire body. There was that age-old sensation of pins and needles sticking into the back of his neck that refused to go away.

Methos looked up at his surroundings…this was a relatively empty part of town. A bunch of warehouses and brick buildings all shut down, abandoned, and forgotten. He headed down a narrow alleyway between two buildings and just as he reached the end of the alley, he felt the quickening again. Before he could turn to look, a figure stepped out of the shadows beside the building and grabbed Methos by the throat; he was completely paralyzed with fear and shock, he could barely make a sound.

* * *

"Why can't you ever leave me alone?" Methos, almost tearfully, asked of his pursuer, "Every time I think I'm finally going to move on with my life, you _always_ come back and ruin everything I worked for."

His abductor had gotten both of them out of that alley and into a ground floor rooms in one of the abandoned warehouses. There were no lights but even in the dark, Methos could see the other man; this soulless creature who had tormented him for thousands of years.

Methos saw the lips slightly part and the teeth show as the other Immortal said, "You're over dramatizing again, that was always one of your worst features."

"Why are you here?" Methos asked, not in any mood to beat around the bush.

"You know why I'm here, Methos," the man said, "I take it you haven't forgotten that little discussion we had the _last_ time I came to see you?"

"I remember," he said defiantly.

"And?"

Methos shook his head, "No."

"No what?"

"I won't help you. What you have planned, you're going to have to do it alone because I refuse to be a part of it."

"It's a little late in the game to become so damn holier than thou, don't you think?" the other man asked as he closed the distance between the two of them.

Methos felt the other man's breath on his neck; he felt like a bug on a slide under a microscope, being examined, his every move recorded, observed, scrutinized. He wanted to scream, he wanted to lunge at this person; he wanted to jump out of his skin and out of the window they'd climbed in, but he knew he couldn't.

"I hate you!" Methos told him.

"Today, sure…but in a day, two days, a week, you'll be _begging_ me to come back, you always do," the other Immortal replied as he put his hand on Methos' shoulder. To Methos, it was a very threatening move to make; he felt as if a large, venomous creature had slithered up on his body and was an inch away from his face, a breath away from the kill.

Methos silently cursed himself as he felt his eyes stinging with the tears that were building up, "I wish you were dead."

"You had your opportunity to see to that many years ago and you didn't take it," the other man responded smugly, "Not one of your finer moments as Death, now was it? And you _still_ can't bring yourself to doing it, can you?"

Methos turned and looked the man dead in the eyes and slapped the hand off of his shoulder.

"Oh come now, Methos…don't be so stubborn…you wouldn't like the outcome."

"Oh? Like what?" Methos asked.

"I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate your brothers finding out about this whole thing," he was told, "Especially your dearest brother of them all, Kronos…how do you think he'd react when he found out?"

"You wouldn't dare," Methos said.

"Wouldn't I? I don't think you're willing to try your luck though, are you? Because you know what would happen if I'm right, and you know I am."

Methos stood where he was, unable to move and yet his whole body was trembling. Why he was, he didn't know, maybe out of disgust, or exhaustion, or anxiety, and he knew part of it was also because there wasn't any way out of this and he knew it; but he'd be damned if he'd ever admit it.

The other Immortal placed his hand right beside Methos' neck and ran his thumb up along Methos' throat. Methos sensed a definite threat in that touch, and he was getting to the point where he just didn't care anymore.

"Take your damn hand off of me," he growled quietly.

Again he saw those damn teeth in that sickening smirk, and he heard that blood chilling laugh in the heartbeat before both hands reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his trench coat and threw him up against the wall, hard.

"You can't get away from me this time, Methos," he said, "This time you're going to do what I tell you."

"And if I don't?"

"You will."

"Kronos used those answers too," Methos said, "They seldom worked."

"Ah, but I am not Kronos, am I?"

No, what this man was Methos faced now was something far more dangerous and horrible. This was a proven case where evil had no name, because there wasn't one in the entire human language to describe it with any justice.

He felt the other man draw close to him again, felt the hot breath, could almost feel the lips on his flesh as the other man spoke.

"Don't press your luck with me, Methos, you know you'll lose."

Methos felt the other body press against his and every inch of his body squirmed and he became sickened when he felt that nauseating kiss, just before he was grabbed roughly and thrown to the floor.

* * *

An hour later Methos still lay on the floor, feeling completely dead inside. About the only pleasant thought to him at that time was the never ending urge to crawl under a rock and die. It certainly would've been more dignified for him than the current situation he was in.

"Well Methos," said the other man who stood leaning against a wall, looking down at him, "Are you still going to play hard to get or are you going to accept this as your fate and cooperate with me?"

Methos crawled along the floor a few inches before pushing himself onto his feet. He hesitated before saying anything in response, finally settling on, "I hate you."

"I know you do, but that still doesn't change anything," the other man said, "Are you going to help me or do we have to continue with these little games?"

"Little games my ass," Methos spat at the other man.

"Your choice, Methos. I don't know _why_ you insist on being so stubborn, so hell bent on torturing yourself. When are you going to accept the fact that you can't escape from me? I'll always find you, and it's just as well. You really wouldn't be able to survive without me."

"Want a bet?" Methos spitefully remarked.

"You might be fast, Methos but you can't run forever…eventually you always stop, and every time you do, I'll be there waiting."

Methos couldn't believe it had come to this. "This isn't going to be over until one of us is dead, is it?"

"No, it won't."

And as much as he despised this man, Methos knew the truth was he _couldn't_ bring himself to kill him; no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much easier it might make his life.

"Alright…" he said quietly, then again, louder, "Alright you bastard! You win…what do you want me to do?"


	2. Chapter 2

1992

Methos forced one tired eyelid open and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. Morning already but he felt like he'd never gone to sleep; just tossed and turned all night. He contemplated staying in bed all day; the way he saw it, he might as well, there wasn't any way he could drag his body out of bed and go in to work today. Somebody had placed a large rock on the lid of his proverbial coffin. Every bone in his body felt like it weighed 200 pounds each.

He hated his life, he thought to himself as he sank back against the mattress and the soft pillows and pulled the smooth sheets back up over him, what life he had anyway. Could it even be called a life? Well, it beat the hell out of the alternative. At least it used to. It used to be that Methos could enjoy his life. There were many aspects about it he enjoyed throughout man's progress and transformation of the world around him; the music, the art, the books, the beer and wine among other things, and many was the time he enjoyed the company of another human being.

But that was then, and this was now. Now, Methos met every day with an ever-growing hesitance and reluctance. Some days he never left his apartment; just locked himself in and stayed in bed the whole time. Sometimes he went days without saying a word to people, sometimes weeks, sometimes he wished the whole population would die out so he could finally be alone, truly alone. Only, he knew that could never be true; even if it did happen he would never be alone because _he_ would still be alive, and _he_ would always be able to find Methos. He had without fail for two thousand years already.

Methos cursed himself for being so weak; he should've killed that man when he had the chance. In retrospect, it seemed that he had plenty of opportunities but just never acted on them; even in the times when he wanted to. Some Death on a Horse…of course, Methos had thought about it over the years and while 10,000 people in 2,000 years meant a great deal at the time…that was over 2000 years ago. Today the world population was over five billion people, 10,000 people in just two years wouldn't be a lot by any means. How many hundreds of thousands died every year in wars? And what about the three million that died every year from measles alone? Hell, if _anybody_ should've been given the title of Death, that would've been Chang Hsien-Chung. That man had 40 million deaths under his belt, and accomplished in only five years' time; back during the Ming Dynasty in the 1600s.

Methos had never personally known the man but he had heard plenty about him at the time…it was funny that today there was hardly a soul who had ever heard of him. Hitler and the rest of the Nazis were responsible for the deaths of 6 million Jews, the Hindenburg had proved fatal for only 35 of the people onboard, hell, even the great memorable Titanic sinking only took down 1635 men, and they were all engraved in history for an eternity. How the hell does one man kill 40 million people and he's erased from the history of the world?

It was times like these when Methos wished he had somebody to talk to; preferably somebody his own age so he didn't have to censor himself about all the things he remembered. But as it was, there was nobody around for him to talk with; and especially nobody anywhere near his own age. Sometimes he was glad that he didn't speak to another living soul, and then at other times that was the only thing he wanted. Living over 5,000 years, there were a lot of things that he came to miss, and mourn the loss of, and reminisce about. One such thing was the attention of a good companion. He had been married 68 times in his life, and every one of them had been important to him, but all those wives were long since dead and buried and most of them turned to dust by now. Methos didn't have it in him to marry again; especially not right now, though he was starting to reconsider his unwritten rule about never marry another Immortal. Sure, there might be the possibility of having his new wife come after his head, but at least he'd be able to speak freely with her about the things that plagued him.

But he knew, no matter who he could ever meet or how understanding they might be, there would always be one thing he could never tell anybody about. _That man_. How it was possible that one solitary individual had made Methos' life such a living hell over the years was nothing short of mind blowing. Nobody, not even Kronos, the man who haunted Methos for thousands of years, was capable of doing anything that could compare with the things that man did to Methos.

Methos could feel those cold, staring eyes searing right through him, looking into him. Even when the man was gone, Methos could feel those eyes remain; they watched him day and night, watched his every move. It didn't matter how many years passed or where in the world Methos tried to escape to, he could always feel those eyes piercing into his back. It didn't matter where he went, he would never be able to live his life in peace.

He stayed in bed for several more hours just staring at the ceiling and thinking about the mess that his life had become. Finally around 11 o' clock he managed to drag himself out of bed and resemble a human being, and he went to work as Adam Pierson, mild mannered graduate student working on the Methos chronicles.

* * *

Water wasn't just an annoyance to him, he was terrified of it; particularly in large enough quantities he could drown and die from it before ever reaching the surface. Heights were another area of discomfort for him. He hadn't heckled man's progress when the airplane finally got off the ground, or the autogiro, or even the Graf zeppelins, it just wasn't his thing. He preferred staying on the ground, or at least as close to it as he could. And yet…Methos had lately found himself being drawn to the tops of the highest buildings in the cities, and he would stand near the ledge and look down in awe at how small and immaterial everything and everybody appeared.

One step closer, he told himself, one move, and it would be all over, for this life anyway, for Adam Pierson, but then what? Times like this he wished he was mortal, he could just leap off the rooftop and then it would be all over. That would be the end of that. But he wasn't, and it wouldn't, so he didn't. But that didn't stop him from going back, day after day, standing on the edge and looking down on the world, and just wondering, what if? What if he did take that final step? What if he didn't place so much caution on balancing himself? What if? Unfortunately that was a question he'd been asking his whole life and he seldom liked the answers he got, the times that he did get them anyway.

Methos couldn't even remember how he ever got home, but every day like clockwork he returned to his apartment at the same time, and plopped down on the couch or the bed, just wanting to crawl under a rock and die. That was about the only thing he could fantasize about anymore that sounded like a good idea, like a relief from the hell his life was now and had been for a long time.

His skin felt foreign to him, like it was something he just crawled into. He wanted to crawl out of it, but he could feel every inch of it crawling on its own, thinking back to the last time he had met up with _that man_.

It had been agreed they would meet in a bar, Methos couldn't remember what happened but it led back to a hotel room. He'd looked around at the décor and commented, "I feel like a cheap whore."

"Not for what this place costs," the other man insisted, "Have a drink, you'll feel better."

"No thanks," Methos said, he already wanted to vomit and alcohol wouldn't help him any.

"Well don't play hard to get, you'll miss all the fun."

At that time, Methos wanted nothing more than to leave that room and the hotel and the whole damn town, but he knew he couldn't. Against his better judgment he'd stayed in the room with the other Immortal all through the night and he didn't know when it ended but he remembered waking up about five in the morning and finding both of them asleep in the king sized bed; which hadn't done much to alleviate his previous statement of feeling like a cheap whore.

It didn't matter that what relationship there was between the two men wasn't a sexual one; it sure as hell could've passed as one based on all the torment and teasing done on the part of the other man. He knew just what it took to drive Methos insane, knew every place to touch him, the exact moment to crowd in on him and pin him against the wall with no escape. Every time Methos wanted to jump when he felt that moment drawing near but he forced himself to remain calm and still, as much as it made him cringe internally when he felt the other Immortal's flesh against his. At those times he wanted to burst out of his skin and out of the room entirely but every time it happened he became paralyzed, whether from fear (though fear of what he wasn't sure) or something else, he didn't know, but all the same it was a very sickening experience for him. And despite all this, he could never stop it from happening the next time.

"If you don't intend to leave me alone," he had told the other man once, "I wish you'd kill me now and put me out of my misery."

The other man had just laughed, "And where would the fun be in that? It's better watching you squirm…5,000 years old and you can't figure your way out of this one."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Methos demanded to know.

"Hate you? I wouldn't waste my time tracking you down every time you ran off if I hated you," the other man had insisted.

"Well I hate you," Methos replied in a low growl.

"Apparently not enough though, or else you would have killed _me_ by now."

"Don't touch me!"

But the man hadn't listened to him; he did exactly what he wanted whenever he wanted to, with no regards to how it affected Methos. Rather, he always insisted Methos 'doth protest too much' and if he'd lighten up, he'd realize it wasn't that bad.

"You're the _only_ one getting any pleasure out of this, you bastard," Methos told him.

"Only because you refuse to cooperate," he was told in return, "When are you going to realize that you can never escape from me? Anywhere you go, I'll always find you, I have now for 2,000 years and I'm not about to lose my touch."

Methos was tempted to comment that if the man didn't let go, he was about to lose one of his hands, but Methos knew it wouldn't do any good.

Looking back on it all now, Methos didn't know why he allowed himself to be put through such torment; but in all reality he knew that he didn't really have much choice. The man was right; Methos couldn't kill him, no matter how much he might ever want to.

* * *

1995

So now there was a new problem in Methos' life, and his name was Duncan MacLeod. Exchange one problem for another it seemed; first Kalas came for his head and he had to get away, and he found MacLeod again and dared the younger Immortal to take his head and end his suffering. But the damn fool did not, leaving Methos no choice but make sure MacLeod didn't lose to Kalas either. However that wasn't even where the whole thing had started…no, first Kalas had killed his good friend, Don Salzer, _then_ MacLeod had come looking for Adam Pierson and found far more than that. Then it was Kalas, then MacLeod again, and then leading the police to find Kalas just in time to save MacLeod's ass, among other things.

Luckily for Methos though, MacLeod had left Paris not long after that, making his life the tiniest bit less complicated. After a while Methos couldn't stand the city any longer himself; so he packed up and left as well. Like a fool, he had momentarily convinced himself that a change of location would be good for him; that if he moved again, his problems would somehow not find him. But he was wrong again.

Early one morning there was a knock on his door, followed by a very strong quickening. Not anticipating any visitors, Methos cautiously made his way to the door, ready to kill whoever was standing on the other side of it. But as soon as he opened the door, the intruder, the same damn person who had haunted him for thousands of years, stepped in and grabbed him in such a manner he dropped his sword without realizing it.

"So it would seem you've been sticking your neck out a bit too far recently," the man said, "Letting MacLeod in on who you really are."

"How do you know about," Methos wasn't able to get his whole question out because the other man started pressing against his windpipe.

"Never mind," the other man responded, letting go of Methos' neck and shoving him hard enough he fall back onto the bed. The man closed the door so nobody else would catch wind of what he was going to say. "The fates seem to be on our side for once…it would turn out your meeting MacLeod isn't the worst thing to happen."

Methos tried to catch his breath, "What do you mean?"

"I've been doing some research on your new friend, MacLeod, and as it would turn out, he and Kronos had a brief run-in in Agua Dulce back in 1867, MacLeod rode with the Texas Rangers back then, they shot Kronos and buried him but he got away. And since then it would seem he's been carrying a chip on his shoulder for MacLeod the size of the Eastern Antarctic."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Methos asked as he got back to his feet.

The other man grabbed Methos by his collar and pulled him close, "Shut up and listen to me for once." Then he shoved Methos away again, "I'm going to assume you haven't forgotten about Cassandra?"

That name. If he'd never heard it again it would've been too soon. "What she was it's hard to forget," he answered.

"And she hasn't forgotten about you, or Kronos for that matter," the man told him.

"So what?"

"So Kronos thinks you're dead, Cassandra does too, but not for long."

Methos felt his eyes widen, "What do you mean?"

"Very soon, Kronos is going to find out you're alive…and Cassandra's going to find out _he's_ alive…and she's going to follow Kronos back to Seacouver where you are so conveniently going to be."

"Why?" Methos asked.

"Cassandra knows MacLeod too, you didn't know that, did you?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"MacLeod knows Cassandra mostly in the Biblical sense, and you know what that does to him, when he thinks a woman he's involved with is in danger, he just has to jump in and play the damn hero, his record bleeds of it through and through."

"That's a lot of loose ends," Methos said, somewhat defiantly, "How do you intend to tie them together?"

"You should see what Kronos has been working on these past few years," the other man said with a sickening smirk, "He's holed up in a submarine base in Bordeaux, experimenting on dozens of monkeys, working on a virus, no cure, and he plans to use it once it's perfected, to bring the world's population to its knees."

Methos was already dreading what was to come next, but he had to ask, "And where does any of this involve me?"

"Once he knows you're alive, he's going to expect you to prove your loyalty to him again, and you're going to offer him what he needs."

"Which is?" Methos asked, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

"The Four Horsemen will ride again, you know where the others are, and you'll lead Kronos to them."

"No!" Methos refused, "I haven't avoided them for 2000 years for my life to come to that again."

"You let me finish…you'll get them together again, but not long enough for Kronos to see his plan go to work. You lead Kronos to the other Horsemen, MacLeod and Cassandra will follow after you, and the other Horsemen will die, only you will remain."

The words didn't register in Methos' mind at first and he had to think about what the man had said before it hit him like a hundred gallons of ice water. "What?"


	3. Chapter 3

1997

Methos forced himself out of bed. He didn't want to face this day but he knew he had to. His whole body shook and he felt sick. He knew what he had to do. He'd been given his orders and he had to follow them. Today was the day that he would see Kronos again for the first time in almost 2000 years; the very idea made him feel sick within every inch of his body.

And it wasn't just Kronos, today he would run face to face with Cassandra as well. There was something he'd hoped to avoid for another 3000 years. He'd had two years of preparing for this day and he still didn't know that the whole thing wasn't going to blow up in his face. But it didn't matter anymore, he knew the game, he new the rules, now he just had to play.

He forced himself to put on an act as his usual, cynical, pain-in-the-ass self around MacLeod and dragged him off to the TV station to audition for that idiotic game show, and he'd answered all the questions he was supposed to, and then botched the last one on purpose. They had to get out of there soon for MacLeod to encounter both Kronos _and_ Cassandra.

When he felt the quickening, he wasn't sure which one of them it was, he just knew that he had to get the hell out of there. He did his 'run and fight another day' song and dance for MacLeod's benefit and then tore out of there. He headed back to his apartment and started to get his stuff together. Within a few short hours, he knew, Kronos would be out there waiting for him.

Night started to fall, and Methos knew it was time to leave. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, to see his brother again, especially since he knew it was all part of a plan to kill Kronos, but it was what he had to do. The cards were already down and he knew that if he got away now, Kronos would never stop hunting for him; 2000 years of hiding gone to waste because of this one moment, the irony of it all.

He left and no sooner had he gotten out the door, he felt the quickening. In that moment, Methos, the conniving bastard, the grand manipulator, the social chameleon, worried that he would blow his cover, so to make sure he didn't say the wrong thing, he forced out the one distraction that came to his mind, "MacLeod, is that you?"

He heard the knife cutting through the air a second before it hit him in his chest. It hurt but his gasping reaction was more from the shock…or rather his feigned shock, he had recited this performance plenty of times in advance to make sure nothing went wrong.

As he fell back, he saw Kronos stepping out of the shadows. It didn't appear that much about Kronos had changed, other than he'd about scalped himself and he was dressed in modern clothes, in comparison to how he had looked the last time Methos saw him.

"Greetings, brother," he said, that ever-present hint of threat in his voice.

"Kronos!" Methos pretended to be shocked but part of it wasn't his fine acting; he had anticipated seeing Kronos again but nothing could compare to the real thing.

"I missed you too," Kronos cynically commented as Methos choked and gasped as the life drained out of him. He slumped down and crumbled on the street, his last thought in the second before death being, that this was only the beginning, there were far worse things to come.

He returned to life the same way he had died, choking and gasping for air. He heard Kronos behind him, he looked and saw Kronos holding the chains. Oh God, he hoped that this plan worked.

"Been a long time," Kronos said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "How're you feeling?"

Methos was nothing if not a cynic so he still had to play that part, "Like I left my heart in San Francisco."

"I didn't know you had a heart," Kronos replied, "Does it hurt?"

Methos wanted to jump up and strangle him for asking such a stupid question, "What do you think!"

"Since you asked? I think you're not used to pain, Brother," Kronos saw Methos try to get up and pushed him down again, "What's happened, you gone soft?"

He wanted to die was what happened. Instead he retorted, "I just passed through my angry adolescence a little quicker than you, Kronos."

Kronos wore his usual sinister grin as he hovered over Methos and then he told him, "You know for a long time, I thought you were dead, I didn't bother looking for you."

Of course you didn't, Methos thought as he got up again, that was what he had worked so hard at for 2000 years and it was all shot to hell now.

"But then I heard rumors," Kronos added.

And Methos knew just where those 'rumors' came from.

"Methos the world's oldest man…you messed up there, old man, you got sloppy."

Not _him_. "Well we're none of us perfect."

"I shouldn't be surprised you're still alive," Kronos said.

However that did little to relieve Methos.

"You were always the one I counted on."

And that made him feel even worse.

"You weren't the strongest or the toughest."

The temptation to reach out and choke Kronos at that very moment was most tempting.

"But you were the survivor, it's what you do best…or did."

Stop steaming up my ear, he thought.

"So you've come to kill me," he said, testing the waters.

Kronos chuckled and said, "It's what _I_ do best. But you do have a choice."

Yes, Kronos, Methos thought, I do, but you don't. No matter what happened here, Kronos would be dead by the end of it all.

* * *

Now for Act I, Scene II, Methos thought to himself as he headed into the dojo. He knew that Cassandra was somewhere in the building, he just hoped she wasn't the first thing he saw. The building was empty but there was a quickening nearby, MacLeod, thank God.

"Methos."

"I was worried about you, MacLeod," Liar, he knew the whole time MacLeod was unharmed, "Glad to see you made it. Listen, something unexpected has come up."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Duncan said, "Have you ever heard of an Immortal named Kronos?"

MacLeod, Methos thought to himself, when you said I was an actor, you underestimated me.

Methos put on his best cool yet caught expression, letting loose with just a slightest hint that something had gone awry, "Kronos?"

"Yeah."

Come on Cassandra, show up, Methos thought to himself. And as if his prayers were answered, they heard the elevator start down and they felt another quickening.

The door lifted and Cassandra stepped out, in a momentary stupor she just looked at him, and as ironic as it was, Methos had never been so relieved to see her.

"You?" she exploded.

Showtime. Methos turned innocently to MacLeod and asked, "Who's this?"

Cassandra took her out sword and barked at Methos to do the same.

"MacLeod, who is she?" Methos asked as he backed away from her.

"Cassandra, what're you doing?" Duncan asked.

"Stay out of this, MacLeod," Cassandra warned him.

Methos hit the wall and knew he was stuck, now it was time to set the bait, "You don't know me."

"Do you think I could _ever_ forget you?" Cassandra asked.

My fault for being born with such distinctive facial features I suppose, he thought to himself.

"This is crazy," Methos said, "It wasn't me, MacLeod…" Now, "Do something!"

"This is between you and me, Methos!" Cassandra lunged at him but Duncan caught her and told Methos to get out of there.

Gladly, Methos thought to himself as he hightailed it out of there and got lost. By the time Cassandra got away from MacLeod and made it to the door, he was long gone and on his way back to Kronos.

* * *

"You took quite a risk letting me out of your sight," Methos said to Kronos, who had turned his back to him.

Methos knew what he had to do now, and he slowly took out his sword and kept it behind his back as he advanced on his brother.

"A lot of time has passed since we rode together," Kronos said, "I had to be sure of you."

As sure as I am of you, Brother, Methos thought to himself as he deliberately plunged at Kronos, only to be stopped by the long anticipated reflex of the all seeing, all knowing Kronos, who turned in time, grabbed Methos and put a knife to his throat.

"And now I am," Kronos added.

Yes, Methos thought, but I still know better what you'll do than what I'll do. He had counted on that knife, it was just something in Kronos' nature, to never limit himself to just one weapon.

"Don't you understand!" Methos asked as he backed away, hoping he sounded convincing enough and knowing he damn well should be since it wasn't all acting, "I'm not like that anymore, I've changed."

"No," Kronos replied.

Yes.

"You pretended to."

I'm pretending now, you idiot.

"Maybe you even convinced yourself you had, but inside you're still there, Methos, you're like me."

"Not anymore."

"No?"

No.

"Tell me you haven't missed it."

There were some days the mere sight of hamburger blood made him vomit from remembering all those laying dead in the desert heat.

"The killing?"

"The freedom! The power! Riding out of the sun knowing you're the most terrifying thing they've ever seen. Knowing their weapons and their gods are useless against you, that you're the last thing they'll ever see."

Methos didn't pay much attention to whatever Kronos said next, until he mentioned Cassandra.

"You know she'll kill you if she gets the chance. You never could bring yourself to kill her, could you? So I'm going to do it for you."

And in return, MacLeod is going to kill you. Might not even the scales but perhaps it could wipe the slate clean.

"And in return?"

"In return, you kill Duncan MacLeod."

_That_ would reset the scales.

"But he's my friend." Methos couldn't believe he'd said that, but that was the way he had been prepped. But it was stupid because he would never _really_ make such an admission to the world's most possessive sibling. He quickly added, "He's nothing to you, why?"

"Why?" Kronos repeated, "Because he's your friend, because you still have to prove yourself and BECAUSE YOU OWE ME!"

I owe you nothing, bastard! Methos thought. You deserve what you're going to get, after the hell you've put me through, you deserve to die.

* * *

Act I, Scene III, Methos thought to himself as he took a box of his belongings out to his truck. After considering all things he decided it would be a good idea if after this whole mess blew over, he left town for an extended period of time anyway. But he was nervous, his hands were shaking and it continued up into his arms. MacLeod was due to be here any minute, and Methos had to make this performance look good.

"Going somewhere?" Duncan asked.

Yes MacLeod, hopefully far enough away I'll never have to see the likes of you again, Methos thought, "You shouldn't be here."

"What're you running from? The question or the answer?"

What the hell kind of a question was that? "There is no answer, MacLeod, let it be."

"Is what she said true?"

Why the hell did he feel like a 15 year old being chewed out because his parents found a beer bottle under his bed?

"I'm out of here," Methos told him.

Duncan cut him off and said, "No you're not, is what she said true?"

Stall for time, that had been part of the plan. Give Kronos enough time for Cassandra to find him and _then_ get back to the power station. "The times were different, MacLeod, I was different, the whole bloody world was different."

"Did you kill all those people?"

"Yes," Okay, he admitted it, happy? "Is that what you wanted to hear? Killing was all I knew," among a few lesser talents, "Is _that_ what you wanted to hear?"

"It's enough," Duncan said, starting to walk away.

Not enough time, stall him. Methos stopped him and said, "No, it's _not_ enough. I killed…but I didn't just kill 50, I didn't kill 100, I killed 1000, I killed _10_,000! And I was good at it. And it wasn't for vengeance, it wasn't for greed! It was because…I liked it." He laughed, as sick as this whole thing had made him he was actually starting to enjoy it, "Cassandra was nothing, her village was nothing," time for the grand finale, "Do you know who I was? I was Death!"

That was the last straw, Duncan grabbed him and pinned him against the truck, he just laughed in his face, "Death, death on a horse, when mothers warned their children that the monster would get them, that monster was me! I was the nightmare that kept them awake at night! Is _that_ what you wanted to hear? The answer is yes…oh yes."

Duncan let go of him with a bit of a shove, "We're through."

Fine with me, Methos thought, you've been nothing but trouble since the day I met you. Now, he hoped enough time had passed that by the time he returned, Cassandra had gotten there and MacLeod wouldn't be far behind her.

* * *

So far everything seemed to be working perfectly, by the time Methos retuned to the power station, Cassandra had been running away from Kronos and hadn't had enough time to notice him. He knocked her out and took her outside and tossed her into the water, now MacLeod should be in there with Kronos and the two would be fighting to the death. Methos actually took a moment to wonder who would win at this point, but he knew he had to end the fight. So he went back in, quickly threw together some Molotov cocktails, poured gasoline on the floors, lit a match, and watched the whole thing go to hell in front of him.

Flames exploded all around Duncan and Kronos and they were either too stupid or too absorbed in the fight to realize what was going on because they paid the flames no mind until another set exploded between them, knocking both of them down. Methos rang the fire alarm and when the noise started, Duncan exited, leaving Kronos standing in the midst of the flames, telling MacLeod, "I can wait!"

Then he turned and saw Methos and went over to him and asked him somewhat accusingly, "And just _where_ have you been?"

There wasn't time to answer because the fire department would be on their way, so the two got out of there and headed down to the docks where it was nice and quiet and private. However none of that mattered to Kronos, he pulled out his sword and stuck it at Methos' throat and asked him, "Why did you stop the fight? You saved MacLeod."

No, Brother, I just gave you a stay of execution, Methos thought.

"It could've gone either way, I couldn't take that chance," he offered as an excuse.

"Are you afraid of me losing, or him?" Kronos asked.

Methos pressed his neck slightly harder against the blade, welcoming the weight of the metal.

"Have I been wrong about you?" Kronos asked him.

For 2000 years, Brother.

"Perhaps I should kill you now and make absolutely sure."

Bingo. "Do that and you'll never have the Four Horsemen."

Something changed in Kronos' eyes, he hadn't been expecting that. "What're you saying?"

"Silas and Caspian are alive." You twit, he added.

"You're lying," Kronos said.

Have I ever done anything else? Methos thought to himself. "I can take you to them," he said.

"Then you live," Kronos told him.

Unlike you, Methos thought as Kronos spoke again and walked off into the night. So far, the easiest work had been dealt with, now came the hard part.


	4. Chapter 4

Methos was exhausted, he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep for about a week, but then again he told himself, he hadn't had a good night's sleep for several years. He and Kronos were wearing out each other's nerves after two days stuck together on an airplane and another two out in the woods with only each other to talk to. It had been agreed, though Methos couldn't remember now who had come to the decision, that they would get Silas first from the Ukraine, and then bust Caspian out of the booby hatch over in Bucharest.

He supposed from a geographical standpoint it made sense, but to him it didn't make much difference, either way they'd have to travel the same distance to pick up one, then the other, then head over to Bordeaux. He remembered the stories in the Watcher chronicles about Evan Caspari; authorities had come out onto his property and found the remains of dozens of people scattered all over his home. The insanity plea had prevailed and instead of executing him in a prison, they had confined him to some God forsaken nut house.

For the days between when they picked up Silas to when they headed to Romania, Methos felt like a zombie, all the time he zoned out when Kronos was talking. He wasn't even sure where he went but he was sure, in his mind anyway, he was going somewhere, trying to get as far away from his brothers as possible.

The night before they were to pick up Caspian, they had stopped at a hotel in Giurgiu to stay the night. Methos and Kronos slept in one bed and Silas in the other, though Methos didn't remember sleeping much. He did recall at one time in the night, feeling somebody's hand on him. He had been used to games of that sort for the last 20 years or more and forgot _who_ he was with and slapped the hand away, saying, "Leave me alone, I'm not in the mood tonight."

The response to that had been a slap across the face so loud it echoed through the room like a gunshot.

"What did you say?" Kronos asked.

Methos opened his eyes and saw it was Kronos he was in bed with, and remembering his place, said, "I must've been dreaming."

"Well quit having dreams like that," Kronos told him.

For a moment, Methos considered the possibility that he'd like to cut off Kronos' head himself. And as bad as things were now, he knew they'd be even worse once they got Caspian, especially considering they had about a 1400 mile flight ahead of them before they even reached Bordeaux, and then the real trouble would start.

* * *

_Could_ things get any worse? Of course they could, but at the moment it didn't appear so. They had gone to the insane asylum, a doctor had been killed and now Caspian was out in society again, the horror of it all. Luckily time was pressing since they had a plane to catch in the morning, so they headed back to the hotel room they'd reserved for the night.

Once they got there, Kronos pushed Caspian into the bathroom with Methos and Silas following to watch and see what would happen now. Kronos turned the shower on full blast, then he took out his knife and cut off the rags that had been serving as the clothes Caspian had worn for the two years he had been locked in that dungeon of a basement in the lunatic asylum. When they were gone and Caspian stood there wearing only the dirt and grime that had just about become a part of him during his ordeal, Kronos shoved him into the shower. He hit the wall and stayed pressed against it, not moving as the scalding hot water poured down on him.

Methos had thought the worst was over for the night, but got quite a shock when Kronos turned to him and told him to clean Caspian up.

"Me?" he couldn't hide the disgust and surprise in his voice.

"Why not?" Kronos didn't wait for an answer, "If he gives you any trouble," he laughed, "Of course, I'm sure you can handle him."

It was all Methos could do not to strangle Kronos on his way out of the bathroom. The two of them left, leaving Methos and Caspian alone. Methos grumbled as he took off his own clothes so they wouldn't be soaked all night, and got in the shower behind Caspian. Already the dirt and muck was running off his body like blood under the shower head; Methos picked up the bar of soap and said to Caspian, "One word out of you and I'll kill you", then proceeded to try and scrub the skin off his brother.

Caspian did one better than that, in addition to not saying anything, he didn't even move, Methos had to grab him and turn him around the whole time he washed him. When that incident was finally over, Methos turned off the water, got both of them dried off and then pushed Caspian out of the shower and into the bedroom.

Only a few more days, Methos tried to convince himself, only a few more days and then he'd get his life back…maybe.

"Methos?" Caspian said, trying to get his brother's attention.

But Methos was too tired and too depressed to listen. He climbed into bed alongside his brother and just told him, "Go to sleep, Caspian."

Caspian didn't know what was going on but he did as he was told. The next day, they got him a change of clothes and left for the airport. During the flight out to Bordeaux, Methos went over in his head the things he had been told so long ago; about Kronos and his virus and the monkeys and the submarine base. And he knew what he had to do…draw MacLeod out of the hotel, leaving Cassandra by herself, Kronos and the others would go get here and then everything would be ready for phase two by the time he returned to the base.

He'd been told what to expect but it couldn't compare to seeing the place for himself. It was about as he expected but the place looked a bit eccentric even for Kronos. Methos looked around at everything, still not quite sure what to expect. It wouldn't have surprised him if Kronos had seen to installing a few booby traps around the place, he always did have a twisted sense of humor.

His feet were killing him but he wasn't really sure he dared sit down on anything, knowing Kronos…but Methos knew he had to go along and let them believe that he was still one of them. He'd had to force himself to adapt to this new surrounding as his temporary home for the next few days. How long? Let's see, it was only yesterday that they'd broken Caspian out of the nut house. MacLeod and Cassandra were no doubt on their way to Bordeaux if they weren't here already. He'd check with the hotel and see if they'd checked in yet. Then he'd call MacLeod…but first, there was the matter of finding the virus and making his little suggestion to Kronos about a bomb.

* * *

Methos was sure he was blowing his cover. He felt like Kronos could see right through him. It had to be obvious; he hardly ate and he didn't sleep, he just stayed up at night pacing around the submarine base. He just wanted it to be over. Soon it would be, he had to remind himself of that. Tomorrow he would present Kronos with his idea of the bomb, 'start small and build' and all that crap he'd been memorizing for years.

The isolation was the worst part; for two thousand years his brothers were all the company he needed but now he couldn't stand to be around them. And yet he was stuck with them; he was stuck by himself with all these thoughts racing around inside of his head and they just went in circles. There wasn't anybody he could talk to about what was happening, and no way to get in contact with anybody who would understand. After everything that had happened already, he wasn't sure if once this whole mess was over, if he'd be too welcomed around Joe's bar again either, even if the bloody highlander wasn't there. There was a reason why he didn't usually make his past the topic of dinner conversation, even among other Immortals.

Caspian came into the room and found Methos crouched down in a corner of the room, looking pretty much asleep already. He went over to his brother, pulled Methos up and walked him back into their quarter. Even in a place as big as the base was, Kronos still saw fit to pair Methos and Caspian together in the same room. Why that was, Methos didn't know, he supposed it was just Kronos's sadistic streak shining through again. Caspian pushed Methos over to the bed and knocked him down on it; Methos was too tired to even notice. He did however, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind consider he and Caspian having to bunk together as a crime against humanity. He vaguely recalled having to do it thousands of years ago and several times he woke up with Caspian biting him because he'd gotten hungry in his sleep.

Methos lay motionless on the bed with the weight of his brother pressing into his back. His eyes were open only a fraction of the way; but though he looked and acted for the most part like a corpse, there was one thought going through his mind at that time: _Kronos, you're going to pay for what you've done to me._

* * *

Methos had called MacLeod and told him to come to the church knowing that MacLeod_ would_ come, now there was just the hardest part of it all, the waiting.

Methos forced himself to sit down and stay there until MacLeod got there, but all the time he felt like doing what he did best, run away and avoid the confrontation. For a moment he started to seriously consider what would happen if he _did_, if he just left now before MacLeod could get there, and didn't go back to Kronos, maybe he wouldn't even go back to Seacouver.

But he knew it would be no good, Kronos would find him, he had made that clear enough a few days ago when Methos returned to the power station.

"_No, you're too smart for that, you know that I'd track you down and kill you, no matter how long it took."_

Evidently. He hadn't been able to let go of his grudge against Methos from 2000 years ago, if he were to disappear now there was no telling what Kronos would do. Methos tried to think, MacLeod should be there soon, then all he had to do was keep him occupied long enough for his brothers to go to the hotel and get Cassandra, how long would that take? Not long, he knew, his brothers were very efficient in that regard.

Methos was about to drive himself crazy with his pestering thoughts when he felt Duncan's quickening, here they went again, he thought.

"Well, I'm here," Duncan said.

Yes MacLeod, Methos thought to himself, you're here...you're here and I'm here, and your little witch whore is all alone, and my brothers are on the way to pick her up. The clock was ticking and the only thing to wonder was when it was going to run out.

* * *

Methos returned to the base ready for the next phase of the plan. He feigned shock when Kronos had told him he'd sent both Silas and Caspian out after MacLeod, but in reality it was something he'd been long anticipating.

"Why both of them?" he asked, "You know MacLeod's not that good."

"It's not about that," Kronos said, "I want him to feel the walls closing in on him…send one of them and it's little more than a regular challenge, send both," that oh so slight smirk on his face that just oozed of evil and malice, "And he knows there's no escape."

Ohhh yes there was, Methos knew, but he didn't say anything, MacLeod was going to come here, and then somebody else was going to die, and then things were really going to get ugly. Methos offered to stay with Cassandra and make sure the little prisoner behaved herself until the others returned. That was what he told Kronos, but the real reason was he didn't want to be within earshot when Silas came back with the news that Caspian was dead. First Caspian died, and then Kronos and Silas would die at the same time, and then…it was supposed to be over after that, but Methos knew it wouldn't be.

He seated himself up by the cage and when Cassandra came around and knew where she was, she wasn't pleased, to say the least.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I live here," Methos replied, "Well not _here,_" he gestured to the moat they were stuck in, "But here."

"You really haven't changed," she said coldly.

Oh wouldn't you be surprised? Methos thought to himself, but managed to keep himself from actually saying.

"Be quiet," he warned her.

"Or else what?" Cassandra asked as she got onto her knees and grabbed at the bars of the cage, "Are you going to kill me again?"

That was never his intention, but if he had to…

"3000 years have passed and you still can't let it go," Methos told her, "Now who's the one that can't change?"

Cassandra was furious at him and she tried to hit him, but all she succeeded in doing was bashing her fist against the cage and breaking the bones in it. Methos listened to her painful moan as she drew her hand back and he leaned against the cage and told her, "Don't do that again."

"I quit taking orders from you a long time ago, Methos!"

"You already broke one hand, you want the other one to match?" Methos asked her, "I can do that and a lot worse, you should remember that."

"I remember everything," Cassandra told him, "I remember everything you did to me, and my people."

"Your people…they died 3000 years ago, they would've died anyway, Hijad was not Immortal, he would not live forever, nobody in your tribe would've lived forever," Methos told her, "Only you would have been left standing at the end of it all anyway."

"But you still killed him," Cassandra said.

"No, Kronos killed him, after he killed you," Methos reminded her.

"You still helped him to murder my entire tribe," Cassandra told him.

"Yes, and I also killed about 10,000 other tribes in my life, it wasn't personal," Methos said.

Cassandra laughed bitterly, "Killing my entire tribe was nothing personal?"

"Neither was keeping you around," Methos told him, "We would've done the same with any other woman we found with a quickening."

"But you didn't, did you?" Cassandra asked.

"There were a couple of others," Methos answered, "After you…Kronos learned from his mistake with you and they never got away."

"And he killed them?"

"They weren't like you, they never broke, they never submitted," Methos explained, "They died by being stubborn, the same as you're doing now…now you've gone through a lot of trouble to stay alive long enough to see us dead, do you want to die now?"

"What do you care?" Cassandra asked.

Believe it or not, I do, Methos thought to himself, and added as an afterthought, you stupid bitch. What had been planned for so many years had never involved killing Cassandra, she was just a pawn in the game.

* * *

Methos sat there and waited. One hour passed, then two, then three, four, five, six…what the hell was going on? They weren't supposed to be gone this long. He kept waiting for Silas to come down there but he never showed up. MacLeod couldn't possibly have killed them both. Could he?

Cassandra had fallen asleep in the middle of the cage so she paid no attention to anything Methos did. Just when Methos was about to close his eyes as well, he heard something. He couldn't feel anybody's quickening up above but he could hear voices. Finally, somebody came back. He strained to hear every word that was said.

"MacLeod killed him?"

"They were on the bridge." It was Silas. "MacLeod grabbed Caspian and shoved him over the edge but Caspian took the bastard down with him. They fell in the river and before I could get down there, there was a quickening."

"Are you _sure_ it was MacLeod that got away?" Kronos asked.

"I couldn't see anybody, but I felt the quickening get weaker and finally it was gone, if Caspian had been the one to survive, when he pulled himself out, he would've come back."

Methos couldn't understand what Kronos said next but he knew his brother was putting to use a few ancient choice words. It wasn't a foreseeable event, MacLeod, a mere 400 years old, defeating one of the oldest and craziest Immortals in the world? It didn't seem possible.

Cassandra woke up when they heard Silas and Methos coming their way. They came over to the cage and Kronos told Silas, "If MacLeod even gets close, kill her."

"He's alive?" Cassandra asked, unable to believe it.

"Not for long!" Kronos replied assuredly.

Cassandra looked at Methos as if she was trying to laugh, "You failed."

We'll see about that, Methos thought as he absentmindedly followed Kronos out of the moat.

Come on, MacLeod, damn you, Methos thought to himself, where the hell are you?

As if on cue, both brothers felt the quickening of another Immortal, and at the top for the stairs they saw MacLeod entering.

Never thought I'd be so glad to see this bastard, Methos thought to himself.

"Think of Cassandra," Kronos told the approaching Immortal, "Lay down your sword and she lives, fight and win," he snorted, "Or lose, she dies…come on, MacLeod, your life for hers, what do you say?"

Damn you, MacLeod, Methos thought to himself, Don't you be getting chivalrous on me now. It was zero hour, the plan had to be executed exactly at this point or one of the wrong people would die.

"I think she'd rather be dead," MacLeod answered.

Thank you, Methos said to himself.

Kronos turned slightly to face Methos and told him, "Tell Silas to finish her off, and let her know it was MacLeod's decision."

My feet have wings you miserable excuse of a, Methos thought as he started to run off. But he didn't get to finish that thought.

"Methos, don't do this!" MacLeod said to him.

Methos stopped and turned back and told MacLeod, "Like you said, I go with the winner."

Except who the hell was that going to be this time?

When he got back to the cage, Silas was already unlocking it and dragging Cassandra out. Methos drew his sword and it got in the way of Silas's plan to decapitate Cassandra.

"You're challenging me for the girl's head?" Silas laughed, "Take her, she's yours, brother."

Not for 3000 years, Methos told himself.

"I am _not_ your brother."

The look on Silas's face when Methos said that said all that needed to be said about the betrayal his brother felt. But it couldn't compare with Methos who had actually had to give voice to the words. He felt like somebody had cut his stomach open and was ripping out his insides.

"How can you do this?" Silas asked him, "How can you go against everything you are?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Methos told him.

Had he ever said truer words in his life? He didn't know and he didn't care. The fight was on, and even though Methos knew what had to be done, he felt sorry for Silas, the poor bastard, he was just walking into this but Methos had every detail planned out and scrutinized and memorized, he'd done so for years. All the same, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when he had to deliver that final, fatal blow.

* * *

After MacLeod and Cassandra had gone, Methos stayed behind in mourning for a while, then once he was sure they were gone and wouldn't be back, he got out of the base. He found himself at the bridge where MacLeod and Caspian had fought, and acting on a blind impulse, threw himself into the river. The water was freezing cold and he wanted to scream, but at the same time he felt it was what he needed. Heat was effective for sterilizing but the freezing cold was beneficial in killing certain things off as well. He thought if he stayed in long enough, maybe he'd fill that some of the grime and filth would wash off; not the dirt from the submarine base but the way he'd felt since Kronos had come back into the picture.

Finally when he felt his lungs ready to burst, he forced himself to surface, taking in the sweet night air again. Compared to the damp, dank, moldy atmosphere he'd been stuck in for the last few days, this was a breath from heaven where he was concerned. He laid out on the ground and looked up at the night sky. There had always been something comforting to those millions of dim little lights lost in the big dark sky, shining down on the world and offering a little light on whatever subject was at his hand. It didn't work tonight though; he was calm now but he still wanted to die.

After a while, Methos had no idea how much time had passed, he got up and headed back to the hotel room which he had reserved in advance, on the other side of Bordeaux where he couldn't possibly run into MacLeod or Cassandra.

This was it, the game was over, his brothers were dead, now all that was left to do was face the man responsible for all this, and figure out how he was ever going to live with himself after this.

Methos reached the hotel and went up to his room. His mind was in a haze and he didn't know what to do but the first thing he did was change out of his wet clothes into a pair of dry ones. The name he was using for the reservation of this hotel had been living in this room for two months prior to him returning to Seacouver and he made it clear to the staff that it was to remain in his name until he got back there. That way he already had everything there he would need.

He had just finished changing and picked up his wet clothes to drop down the laundry chute when it really hit him what had happened that night, and he dropped the clothes and fell to the floor crying, weeping uncontrollably for his brothers, who despite everything he thought about them, and how much he had wanted them dead, he missed them.

There was a quickening approaching his door. He knew who it had to be. Cassandra didn't know about this place and MacLeod sure as hell wouldn't know where to find him. Methos forced himself up and went over to the door and opened it, facing the man who had put him through all this, the tormentor who had made his life a living hell for so long. In that moment Methos couldn't even think of cursing the other man, for all the trouble he had made of Methos' life, the 5000 year old man just didn't have it in him. He was too upset by the murders, the blackmail, the betrayal, everything. Methos opened his mouth and tried to speak, to say something, anything, but he could not, he just continued crying as he collapsed into the arms of his brother, Caspian.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe they're dead," Methos said some hours later when he had finally started to calm down.

Caspian listened to Methos talk as he poured several strong drinks together into one potentially lethal concoction which he then tried to persuade Methos to drink, but Methos wasn't in the mood.

"Drink it," Caspian told him, "It'll make you feel better."

"No," Methos said, so quietly he almost couldn't be heard, "No thanks," he said as he rubbed his hands over his face, "I don't think I can drink anything right now."

"You shouldn't be surprised," Caspian told him, "You knew it was going to come to this, we'd had it planned for years."

Methos bit down on the tip of his thumbnail and started crying again, to the point that he couldn't talk because he was so upset. Caspian put the glass down and held onto his brother, offering little comfort other than his very presence.

"You knew it had to be done," Caspian told him.

"But you weren't there, you didn't see the look on Silas's face when I told him," Methos said

"Well I hate to say I told you so," Caspian said, "But that's why we had to kill them. Kronos was never going to let you go and Silas was too loyal to leave Kronos, he would never go against Kronos's orders."

"I know," Methos cried, "I know…"

Fate always seemed to play a cruel trick on him, in one way or another. In the beginning, he and Caspian couldn't stand each other, there was never a love or respect between the two men, and yet they could never get rid of each other. Kronos knew that there was no bond between them and therefore stuck the two together for many years. He forced Methos to spend the nights in Caspian's tent with him, knowing the two didn't get along and resented being stuck with one another.

Kronos found Methos and saw a great opportunity, even in the beginning Kronos could tell that Methos was just what he needed. Caspian on the other hand, had always been an entirely different story. With Caspian, Kronos saw an insane man who terrorized the living and ate everything: living, dead, bugs, people, it made no difference to him. For many years Caspian was regarded as a 'pet' of sorts, and treated little better than a dog, and through it all, he took his treatment without a single protest.

"He's out of his mind, there's no arguing that," Kronos had told Methos plenty of times, "But he's also even more of an idiot than Silas is."

"You really think so, Kronos?" Methos asked in response.

"He would've died long ago if it weren't for us, he hasn't the brain to think of anything for himself, he doesn't know _how_ to think, he can only _do_."

That was what Kronos thought but that was where Kronos underestimated Caspian. A while after Methos and Caspian starting getting confined to the same tent at night, Methos made a startling revelation. Caspian was not as dumb as Kronos thought he was, he wasn't even as crazy as Kronos thought he was. Oh, he ate people, among other things, but it wasn't because he enjoyed it, it wasn't because he was insane…it was because that was what Kronos expected of him, so that's what Kronos got. But once Kronos was out of sight, Methos saw a different side of Caspian, a side that was very frightening because he was intelligent and very calculative. He let Kronos think he was a psychotic because a psychotic would never have the brains to overthrow Kronos's authority, so Kronos let his guard down not only with Methos, but with Caspian as well.

As horrible as Kronos was and as horrible as he had always been, all the things he had done, all the things he was capable of, Methos learned early on that nothing Kronos could do could compare with the real Caspian if he ever decided to show his true self to his brothers. Fortunately, during their reign, he did not, Caspian was perfectly content with letting Kronos think he was on top of everything and that his other brothers were dumber than he was and weren't capable of much at all, especially without him in charge.

It was Caspian, not Kronos, who Methos had feared most of his life. He knew there was no telling what Caspian might do to any of them if he were to 'snap'. He had hoped when he left the Horsemen behind, they would remain as only buried memories in his mind. But Caspian had proven himself far more dangerous than Methos had previously thought, because he did what Kronos could never do, he had found Methos. It didn't matter where in the world Methos went, Caspian always found him, and he was always there, waiting for Methos. Even now Methos had lived in constant fear of this man, wondering what he would do, especially now that Kronos was out of the picture once and for all.

As far as Methos had been able to determine, there were three sides to Caspian, three at least that he knew of: there was the psychotic side which was only an act, then there was the side of him that could actually be halfway normal, who could go through life not drawing much attention to himself, though if that were only an act as well, he didn't know…and then, there was the third side, which Methos had only seen bits and pieces of over the years, and prayed he'd never see the full extent of the third side. He had known all his life that evil was real, evil was a living, breathing thing, and evil was buried somewhere deep within Caspian, buried, but not forgotten, and it could show itself at any given time and there was no telling what would bring it out. Now, Kronos had just about killed off half the world's population with his own ideas, Methos prayed he never found out what Caspian could be fully capable of doing.

Even now Methos was terrified of his brother, especially since he knew what they both had known, that Caspian was the only person he had left, the only person he could trust, the only one he could ever turn to.

"Silas said you were dead," Methos said to him.

"You knew he would," Caspian replied.

"But how? He said he saw both of you go into the river and then there was a quickening."

"Not exactly," Caspian said, "Kronos wasn't the only one who knew how to set a bomb, and you know there were plenty of explosives left in that base saved over from the war, and most of them still in perfect working order."

Now the pieces were starting to fall into place. "You knew it'd go out by the bridge and then explode?"

"I saw to that before Silas and I ever left, there was only so much time to get MacLeod over to the bridge and get him down into the water…Silas thought it was a quickening, that way I'm as good as dead, but they don't need a body to show for it."

"You knew Silas would say you were dead and you knew MacLeod would go on to the base…you had it all planned," Methos said.

"Of course I did," Caspian replied, "You think I was in that nuthouse for two years because of the excellent recreation?"

Caspian had returned to playing a lunatic long enough for the authorities to find out about him and lock him up. He'd killed several people just for the shock value and then left an anonymous tip with the police about what they could find in his home. It was a psychotic act by an oddly enough very sane person in an attempt to convince the world, his brothers included, of just how crazy he was supposed to be. When he'd been arrested, Methos was left to himself for two years to memorize everything he was supposed to do.

And now it was all over, Kronos was dead, Silas was dead, MacLeod made Cassandra spare his life but there was no doubt in Methos' mind that if they crossed paths again, the highlander would try to kill him, or at the least banish the older Immortal from his life forever, and then there was Cassandra who would never be at peace until she was dead, and he didn't want to kill her. All he had left was Caspian, the only brother he had left, and the one he had always feared the most.

"What have I done?" he asked himself quietly, "What have I done?"

* * *

Caspian woke up in the night and realized the other side of the bed was empty. He turned over and saw the covers were pushed back and the pillows had been flattened down, but Methos wasn't there. He looked over the edge of the bed and saw the body of his brother lying on the floor. Despite the recent situation, Caspian thought it was Methos' idea of being funny and reached over the edge and grabbed him. "Get back up here."

Methos just pulled Caspian's hand off of his shoulder and knocked it away.

"What's the matter?" Caspian asked him.

Methos said nothing and only crawled away from the bed and laid down further away from him. But Caspian didn't give up that easily, so he just rolled out of the bed and hit the floor beside Methos.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are we going to do this all night?" he asked Methos, who kept his face as close to buried in the carpet as he could.

Now that there was only about three inches between the two brothers, Caspian was able to notice the slight tremors running through Methos's body as he kept his hand clamped over his mouth in a vain attempt to silence the small sobs caught in his throat. Methos felt Caspian's arm snake around his waist but didn't resist; Caspian rolled him over to face him and wrapped his arms around Methos so he couldn't get away, and also to restrain him so he couldn't hurt himself. Both of them stayed on the floor for the rest of the night.

* * *

Methos awoke the next morning but he didn't get out of bed. If anything, he just tried to go back to sleep and even when it didn't work, he tried anyway. Caspian didn't disturb him; he figured after everything Methos had been put through for several years, he deserved that much at least. About 11, Methos finally pulled his head out from under the pillows, and he didn't get out of bed but he started to talk.

"I didn't want to kill them."

"I know," Caspian told him.

"As much as I hated Kronos and as much as towards the end of his life I kept thinking that I _did_ want to kill him, I never actually wanted it to come to this."

"I know. But it had to be done if you were ever going to get your life back, and you know it," Caspian said.

"A life away from Kronos," Methos said, "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How long is it going to be before the two of us are fighting to the death because I need a life apart from you as well?" Methos asked.

Caspian looked a bit surprised, "Do you really think I'd ever treat you like Kronos did?"

"I know you're capable of it, and far worse," Methos said, "That's what scares me…it's almost like I killed the wrong person."

"Well you've had plenty of chances to kill me over the years and you never did," Caspian replied, "What should tell you something."

"It does, it tells me it's a wonder how I ever got the title of Death," Methos said.

Caspian disregarded the comment and mussed up Methos' hair before asking him if he wanted lunch.

"I'm not hungry," Methos answered.

"You've got to eat," Caspian said, "No point in making yourself any sicker over this than you already have. Besides, God knows you can't afford to starve, isn't a spare pound anywhere on you," and he poked Methos' boney body to emphasize.

"Guess you'll be going hungry then," Methos commented.

Caspian's hand came within a fraction of an inch of Methos' face after he said that. But Caspian caught himself at the last possible second, and said only for explanation, "That's what MacLeod said on the bridge. Tell me something, Methos, what did you _ever_ see in that thing?"

"I don't know," Methos mournfully responded, "I wonder sometimes myself. When he took that dark quickening, I left a dying woman to go help him, he tried to kill me, more than once…and he killed Sean Burns, one of the _only_ Immortals who stood a chance of holding onto his sanity and helping others keep theirs…why did I bother? Why? Why? Why?"

That word was starting to become a mantra for Methos. Caspian grabbed his brother and shook him violently to make him snap out of it.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do anymore," Methos said, "My life as I've known it for years is now officially over. Kronos and Silas are dead, MacLeod and Cassandra would be only too happy to see me dead, you're the only thing I've got left…hmmmm, so it's true what they say about hell being on earth."

* * *

The following week passed with every day being about the same, Methos stayed in bed all day and night except for when he was drinking. He hardly ate anything, would only take a couple bites and then push his food away, and it seemed he wouldn't leave his room even if the hotel were on fire. Caspian had put up with his brother's abnormal behavior for as long as he could, then one morning he'd had enough of Methos doing an impersonation of a corpse.

It was already going on noon and Methos was still asleep. He'd drank heavily last night and still reeked of booze and sweat…all that and no woman to show for it, that had been one thought going through Caspian's mind at the time. He pulled the sheets back and undressed Methos, then hauled his unconscious brother up into his arms and carried him into the bathroom before dumping him in a bathtub full of ice water.

Methos sprang to life the second he landed in the tub. It was at that exact second that he felt every pore in his body snap wide shut. He shot up in the tub screaming and tried to get out, but Caspian just shoved him back into the water. Methos hit his back against the marble tub and screamed in pain in addition to just a response to the freezing water. Caspian put his hand on top of Methos' head and grabbed some of his hair for good measure and shoved him under the water. Methos struggled with his brother to break loose, to surface, to get out of there by any means, but no such luck. Amidst his panic and shock, he timed how long he was under the water, 10 seconds and Caspian pulled him up.

Methos loudly sucked in as much air as he could and locked his arms around Caspian so if his brother tried to shove him under the water again, it would be both of them going down for it. Caspian curled one arm around Methos' upper back and with the other hand, grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed over the middle of Methos' back. Methos was still trying to get any air in him that he could actually feel within his body, but the shock of the cold water seemed to make that a near impossibility. Caspian adjusted his hold on Methos and soaped up the hair on top of his head before pushing him down into the water again.

Once again, Methos struggled and tried to resurface but apparently he wasn't to do so until Caspian decided it. When Caspian pulled him up again, Methos tried to knock Caspian away and escape, but his brother knew him too well and anticipated the move and all it got Methos was shoved against the side of the tub again. Caspian wasn't waiting for Methos to try it again; he took off his jacket and his shirt and didn't just merely step over the side of the tub, he jumped in and landed alongside his brother and grabbed him, and the two wrestled around for the next half hour, each trying to drown the other, and if that wasn't the original intention, it did a good impression of being it. Once the ice had finally melted, Caspian drained the tub and turned on the hot tap for the shower.

"Well, Lazarus," he said as he got out and dried himself off, "How's it feel to come back to life?"

"Like frostbite," Methos answered.

"You're an Immortal," Caspian told him, "You can't get frostbite."

"Yes I can, my fingers just don't fall off," he replied.

Caspian watched Methos for a few minutes and when he was sure Methos wasn't going to try and make for the door, he left the bathroom to call the front desk and request a cleaning woman to come in and change the sheets on the bed. And he added, if anybody heard anything unusual, not to be alarmed, that he was just giving his visiting, unruly 3-year-old son a bath. When he hung up with the front desk, he returned to the bathroom and found Methos hadn't moved from where he was, sitting by the edge of the tub.

"Are you alright?"

"I was just thinking," Methos said, "I could've sworn I once saw a Red Skelton movie like this." He looked at Caspian and tried to restrain a laugh, but it came through as he said, "You'd be just perfect as the walrus."

"Unless I missed something in medical school, I don't recall subzero temperatures being a direct cause for brain damage," Caspian said as he went over to the tub and turned Methos so he faced the hot water, "Get in there."

The water just about scalded him and he crossed his arms over his chest like a woman trying to cover her breasts as he said to himself, "This seems familiar too." He let the burning hot water pour down on him and he gladly welcomed the heat. It seemed that he was always cold; which was one reason why he usually wore about three layers of clothes, all of them a size too large. Ever since this whole mess had started about killing off Kronos and Silas, his whole body had felt cold, like his body temperature had dropped suddenly and never picked up. Now he thought, he was finally starting to feel normal again. God he hoped so.

* * *

Caspian was right of course, Methos thought to himself that night as he tried to sleep, Kronos never would have let him go. He spent 2000 years searching the globe for Methos because he couldn't stand their fourth brother abandoning them that long ago. There was no telling how long Kronos would have kept on, or even if he ever would've given up. Methos cursed the stubbornness of his late brother. If Kronos hadn't been so…possessive seemed like an understatement when trying to describe Kronos, but it would have to do…if he had been able to accept that Methos needed a life apart from him, that spending every minute of every day with Kronos had been sucking the life out of him like a bug stuck in a jar, maybe things wouldn't have had to come to this. But he didn't and they did and that was the end of it. Now Methos had to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

The next morning Methos opened his eyes and saw the sun coming in through the curtains, though he couldn't really remember ever having gone to sleep in the night. He felt tired, but he also felt restless, but the former outweighed the latter and he fell back against the pillows again and went back to sleep. Half an hour later, Caspian was in the process of waking up when Methos, who in his sleep had burrowed under the sheets and pillows, was wriggling around trying to surface like a mole, and finally poked his head out from under the pillows. "Caspian?"

Caspian yawned and stretched his whole body out like a cat, and despite being 29 forever, several things popped and cracked from within his body. "What is it?"

"I think we need to get out of here," Methos said.

"Why?"

"I don't mean the room, I mean Bordeaux, maybe the whole country, maybe the whole continent, I don't know," Methos told him, "All I do know is I don't think I can stand to be in this place another minute. There're too many memories here, in this town…memories I want to forget, do you understand?"

Caspian said nothing and merely nodded as an answer. "We'll figure out where to go from here," he said.

Methos was relieved to hear that. He hadn't told Caspian, though he supposed his brother could figure it out for himself…he hadn't felt quite right since the night of the quickenings. Part of Kronos _and_ part of Silas were in him, and, Methos shuddered at the mere thought, perhaps a piece of MacLeod as well. He really didn't know, amazingly enough, in 5000 years he'd never encountered another double quickening…well, except for those alongside his brothers, but they didn't count. They had all lived with one another for 2000 years, after that much time, you inherited part of the others one way or another. He could feel Kronos and Silas inside of him, and it felt like they were trying to fight their way out. That's how he had felt for the entire week, that was why he never ate, and why he drank so much, and why he slept all the time. He was willing to do anything that would take his mind off of them, maybe help him start to forget.

He could still feel the two of them today, except now they weren't as strong as they had been before. Maybe his brothers had finally accepted their demise and were starting to settle down. He sincerely hoped so, his life was complicated enough when he only had to fight with himself.

The two brothers dressed and got their things packed up; Methos curled up on the bed near the top and rested, tried to sleep, as Caspian made some calls to find out what flights were leaving soon. He didn't really rest much, instead he ran through his mind all the things that had been eating at him for the last few days. What about MacLeod? What about Cassandra? She wasn't too hard to figure out, he had gone 3000 years without seeing her, another 3000 would suit him fine, but MacLeod? Oh well, he thought with a sigh, it wouldn't be the first time he had to prematurely kiss off on one life and walk into another without a plan.

While Caspian stayed on the phone, Methos remembered something. He opened the drawer to the nightstand and took out some brochures and looked them over.

Finally Caspian hung up and said, "Not good, the only flights heading out of here today are going over to Paris."

"That doesn't matter," Methos told him, "There's a cruise ship heading out tonight and going to New York, we'll see if we can't catch that."

"Methos, you hate the water," Caspian reminded him.

"I know, but I'm figuring on a ship anyway, at least we'd have a room together," Methos said, "That's one advantage over flying. And I think it'd be good to get away from France for a while…and Seacouver."

"I agree," Caspian told him.

* * *

That night the two brothers, each with a suitcase in hand, were hurrying past the crowds who had come to see the ship off and scuttled up the gangway past everybody throwing confetti and screaming and cheering.

"Must be somebody important on this boat," Methos commented to his brother.

"No," Caspian replied as he got an overall look at the people, "Just about a hundred nobodies stuck with a family."

Once the ship had pulled out of the dock and the noise from shore had died down, the two brothers were shown to their cabin where they decided to avoid all the ruckus outside and just keep to themselves for the remainder of the voyage.

Methos felt a bunch of confetti in his hair and tried to shake it out, "You'd think it was New Year's Eve the way they're acting."

"They've got plenty of reason to celebrate," Caspian said as he sat down and watched his brother pace, "They just don't know it. They'll never know how close they came to a mass genocide."

"They're better off not knowing," Methos said, "I just wish we were so lucky…Caspian?"

"What?"

"What month is this?"

"February."

"My God, New Year's Eve feels like it was an eternity ago," Methos said, "Everything feels like it was so long ago."

The night passed and eventually the two brothers went to bed. Methos was awake but he didn't move and he didn't talk; he just laid there and stared up at the ceiling, as if he were looking at something. After watching this for half an hour, Caspian finally asked him, "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking," Methos said, "…I hope they understand, why we had to do this."

"It'll get easier," Caspian told him, "Not right away but it will, you'll see."

"I hope so," Methos said.

"Things will get better once we're out of Bordeaux and…" At the mention of that word, Methos turned on his side, facing away from Caspian.

"Now what's wrong?" Caspian asked.

Methos didn't say anything at first, and then he said, quietly, "Caspian."

"Yes?"

"Caspian," Methos said again, louder, as if he hadn't heard his brother respond.

"What?"

"Did you ever read _The Man without a Country_?" Methos asked.

"Yeah, so what?" Caspian asked, not getting where Methos was going with this.

Methos slowly turned his head back to look at Caspian and said, "Well then do me a favor, will you? Don't _ever_ mention Bordeaux to me again."

It was an unusual request, but it was also one that Caspian understood very well. He grabbed Methos and pulled his body back towards him, so he would be forced to confront the presence of his brother, to know that he was not alone, and he answered, "Alright Methos, I won't, I swear."

"Thank you," Methos quietly replied, feeling for the first time that the nightmare was finally over.


End file.
